Kathleen McCall:
Occasional�� Muse�

2002-05-03 - 10:04 p.m.

WOW

I was making eggplant Parmesan. I know I was; I'm sure of THAT. Some of the rest is pretty blurry.

I turned around to carry something to the table. The girls were in and out the front door and playing; David had walked out to take some trash to the dumpster. I just turned around, turned my back to the kitchen, and then...whUMPP! The place went up.

I don't know if I was knocked off my feet. The girls said I got up from the floor - I don't know. I know I thought "ohmygodthestove" but it was weird - it wasn't the stove on fire - it was everything - a million little confusing fires all over the kitchen - what happened- it just exploded - ohmygod girls get out get out GET OUT GET OUT - I was screaming - they WENT. Choking- bad smoke, bad - I grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall, couldn't get it to work, I could hear the girls screaming outside, the place is going up, I better get out - the neighbor outside - CALL 911, it's all on fire - David grabbed the fire extinguisher and went back in - he came out choking - the fire engines came. The police came. Everybody was there, and the neighbors all out, and my hair was all singed and my foot hurt - I didn't know why - my house, my house, it's burning - my kids, I want my kids - the neighbors held us while we watched. Then the firefighters, all suited and masked with air tanks, yelled at us to get back, out into the street. All the police cars and lights, three fire engines, the street blocked off, smoke pouring out, oh my house my house. I have my kids - we're safe - my house, my house - what HAPPENED?

The paramedics check me; it's all surface. The skin isn't burned, only the ends of the hair, making me look scary. The foot hurts a lot - when did I do that? If it still hurts tomorrow, I can go the emergency room. I'm okay. They tell me it was the refrigerator - it seized up, the oil vaporized and hit flash point or suddenly ignited from the stove. I was only a few feet from it when it blew.

Forty minutes later - I thought it was hours, but the firefighters said it wasn't - it was over. We could go in with them, careful careful, and see. Only my kitchen had burned - the rest just smoke and water and broken melted things thrown out of the way, piles, and the smell my god the stench. Picking my way past the blackened refrigerator, now out in the yard, all the photos and honor roll certificates gone, only the charred magnets now. The kitchen wall gone, fallen to axes; vent holes in the ceiling, furniture thrown and broken and stinking. Carpet a lake of firehose water, ruined. The building inspector, in his Wellingtons, shaking his head, stapling up the sign to our front door: UNINHABITABLE.

We grabbed things for the night. What will we need? Can't think. It was dark; flashlights arrived from next door. No power, no lighting, what must we take? Careful, don't fall, things are broken and sharp here now. Get clean clothes. It's okay. We just have to go; get what you can. The stuffed animal you always sleep with - he's safe, honey, here he is - your pillow, yes that's fine - we're all fine, we're okay. We go to David's.

The next days a blur of phone calls, scraps of paper with numbers, x-rays and pain medication, confusion, no shoes, borrowed sweatshirts, kindness everywhere. Business cards I hold - the sergeant who was so kind, the building inspector who said he would help any way he could. David who went back in with the extinguisher and put out fires until he was driven out by choking smoke, and then took us into his home. Neighbors, neighbors feeding my children, hugging me, letting me wash in their hot water. Writer friends ready with offers of help, with notes and e-mails and more kindness. Friends who listened, and offered help and child care and love. So many blessings, so many, lucky lucky lucky. So much to thank everyone for.

All this and only a ruined kitchen, lost things but only things, a half-inch of hair that needed cutting anyway, and one broken toe. It will be fixed; we will go back home. We are whole, we are together, and if we cry as we pick up our burnt things, write down what they were and put them into plastic bags, we don't forget. We lost so little; we have so much.

�

previous - next

�